Unwanted children
by Ilse17
Summary: During the Christmas holidays he spends with Sherlock at his parents' home, John learns more about his friend's family. Soon after that, other revelations will change again his own future. Missing scenes and sequels of HLV. Just a way I found to explain Sherlock's "normal" parents and to get rid of Mary (I used to like her a lot but I can't forgive her what she did).
1. Chapter 1

John looked at his best friend, seated on the passenger sit at his side. Still too pale and thin. And obviously uncomfortable with the idea that John was driving them both to his parent's house.

"I could have gone there by myself, John", he said.

"No way. You're not yet in condition to drive that far. You've just been released from the hospital." _And you nearly died, and had to stay there that long because I've been such a crappy friend and doctor, so focused on my own problems I forgot you had run off from the hospital to solve them for me, _John added inwardly, with a renewedpang of guilt.

"Precisely. You already spent too many time with me at the hospital. You should be with Mary", said Sherlock.

"No. She nearly killed my best friend."

"But I already proved you that…"

"We've already discussed this. I know she called the ambulance for you. But she also willingly inflicted a life threatening injury on you, taking the risk to have you not making it in the end. You heart stopped in the ambulance, Sherlock. You could have died, actually."

Sherlock was confused and worried. It had seemed that Mary was necessary to John's happiness. So as his friend, he had tried to adapt to the new situation. And by some kind of miracle, Mary had appeared to be among the rare persons that could accept him, and even somehow like him a bit, or so it seemed. He had begun to like her too, not only as John's fiancee, but as Mary Morstan, whatever shady past he suspected she had. Was it that important she had shot him ? She hadn't wanted him dead, she'd only wanted to protect her secret.

A brief look to his friend was enough to confirm to John that Sherlock didn't really understand his reaction. For him, or so it seemed, being shot by his best friend's fiancee was no big deal. The doctor felt a sudden burst of anger mixed with sorrow at the idea of how little his friend still valued his own life.

"Look. I don't know how I could make you understand this once for all. But you matter to me. Hugely. Your life is far more important to me than my relationship with Mary." _Yeah. As if my oblivious, selfish behavior at Leinster Gardens and at our flat, when I realized what Mary had done, hadn't given him perfect reasons to think otherwise. Hell, he'd even had to call his own ambulance !_

Sherlock looked less please than even more confused by John's words.

"But you told me that what you had with Mary was the most important thing in your life."

"Yes well, it may have seemed the most important thing that had happened to me at a moment, but I never meant that I'd chose you to die over to have to put an end to my relationship with her. Can this idea remain at least for a while in that thick skull of yours ?", John yelled, even thouhg he knew it wasn't really Sherlock he was angry at.

Something flashed in Sherlock's eyes, a mix of amazement and warm emotion, so quickly that John could have failed to notice it, had he not glanced at his friend just at this moment. But within a second his expression had changed into a frown and a worried look, as he turned his head toward the older man.

"But didn't you make peace with her while I was at the hospital ?"

John sighed. "No, Sherlock, I didn't. If you have to ask, I barely saw her. When I was not with you, I was at Baker street. I wanted to be nearer to St Barth, and… I needed time to ponder over what had happened."

Sherlock's frown deepened. "I didn't figure that out. Obviously I've not fully recovered on the intellectual point of view either. So… ", he added with a very uncharacteristic hesitation, "would you be very upset if I said that I asked Mary to join us at my parent's house tomorrow morning ? I thought - apparently I was wrong- that you would have wanted it and wouldn't have dared to ask."

John remained silent for a while. He was not pleased at the idea. But on another hand, he had to admit that he could not avoid the confrontation for ever. And he did have to take a decision concerning a possible future with Mary. What might be on the memory stick that she had given to him was not the issue. He had not wanted to see it and was not sure he ever would. But he was far from sure that he could forgive her what she had done to Sherlock. Yet on another hand, she was the mother of his soon to be born child.

And wasn't he even more angry at her because of his anger at himself for having let Sherlock jeopardize his own life ? And if Sherlock had gone as far as to nearly die from internal bleeding for the sake of that relationship, didn't he owe his friend, in a way, to give a second chance to it ?

Feeling Sherlock's anxiety, he quickly made up his mind and smiled reassuringly.

"No, mate, I'm not upset. On the contrary, I thank you for forcing the issue. There is no point in hiding the way I did. It will take time for me not to be mad at her anymore, but I must talk to her. I'll try, at least for the sake of our child and… because of what you already did for my happiness. I owe you that much.

Sherlock closed his eyes, both relieved and already tired by the discussion. Maybe John was right after all. He was not fully recovered. And how difficult and confusing it was, as usual, to try to understand people's feelings and unexpected emotional reactions. Even John's.

Yet he musn't allow himself to sleep untill he had said another and very private thing to his friend. Something he had waited too long to tell him, untill he just have this moment left to do so.

"John… There is another thing you should know before we arrive. The people with whom we're going to spend Christmas are not our real parents."


	2. Chapter 2

"The people with whom we're going to spend Christmas are not my real parents."

John smiled. "I suspected as much, you know, they are far too … normal to have given birth to odd geniuses such as Mycrofs and you. Did they adopt you ?"

While saying this, John turned in a minor road and stopped the car on its side. It might be a long story and he wanted to give his full attention to it.

"My father was a powerful man", Sherlock began, "more or less in the position that is Mycroft's now. But he was already married. It was just a façade, but in this time, divorce was not an option in his functions. So our mother and us had to be kept hidden. She led a very solitary life, alone in the country, with a staff that was changed very often for security. Mycroft says that she didn't mind, as her only two interests in life were my father and her researches in mathematics. I've been told that she had always been quite weird, very ill at ease in society, and I suppose I inherited that from her. Whatever, when Mycroft was 15 and I was 5, she became… even weirder, and her sister convinced my father to allow her to take care of us. Our father was always afraid that his secret would be discovered and that someone would use us to exert pressure on him. And our mother, in her mental state, had become a liability. That's why we became officially Alice and Philip Holmes 'sons. But we didn't stay with them very long. One year later Mycroft was admitted at the university with a derogation from age limits. Two years later, he reached the age of majority and took me with him. At this time, he began working with our father. Both of them had such great plans for me." He smirked. "Too bad I was such a disappointment."

"If you were a disappointment to your father", said John softly, "then he was a fool. I gather that he's dead ?"

"Yes, he died years ago. In fact, I barely knew him. When I was on holidays, I was at Mycroft's home."

"And your mother ? Did you see her again ?"

"She's alive. After several years she had more or less recovered. She lives in Switzerland now. I've never seen her again."

This was said in an indifferent tone John didn't find very convincing. He suspected there was a lot more to say about the situation than that brief account. The obvious thing, nonetheless, was that the Holmes brothers had had a very solitary childhood. John had always been under the impression that Mycroft had been the one who had raised his younger brother. Apparently he had been right. As for their father, he seemed to have been a perfectly heartless, selfish bastard. But what of the mother ? Why had Sherlock never gone to see her after she had recovered ? John was sure that there was some kind of painful secret behind all this.

"Why didn't you tell me that before, Sherlock ? And why now ?"

"Because before I didn't see the point of pondering over that long gone past. But now, as you're about to spend a week with them. I want you to know the situation as it really is. Especially as things are sometimes a little bit tense between Mycroft and our foster parents."

Sherlock smirked again. "But he'll always be the perfect, caring son. As you can imagine, he has their house watched over all the time. And he dutifully escorts them when they go to London entertain themselves a little. It's part of his façade, after all."

John nodded. If there was something in which the two brothers were at the opposite, it was their attitude concerning social conventions. Mycroft observed them strictly, Sherlock mostly ignored them. And yet, of the two brothers, Sherlock was the most capable of true interaction with his fellow men. He had friends who deeeply cared for him. He had shown that he hugely cared for them too, to the point of self-sacrifice. How was it that one brother was completely devoid of any social skills, and the other one of any ability to care for anyone, except precisely his brother? The new datas John had about their childhood may give him some answers to this questions. But it wasn't time for him to ponder over it. Sherlock looked exhausted, it was time to go and reach the senior Holmes's house.

"Thank you for telling me", the doctor said. "There's certainly a lot of things I will understand better. Now let's go, you need some rest."


	3. Chapter 3

While Sherlock was very uncharacteristically napping upstairs, John was alone in the sitting room with Mycroft. The whole situation was unsettling. Mrs Holmes kept talking to him as if she had raised the two brothers since they were born, unaware of his new knowledge of the situation. Sherlock, obviously, hadn't warned her he was about to reveal the truth to John, and had been too exhausted, when they had arrived, to say much before collapsing on his bad, fast asleep.

John looked at Mycroft who was quietly reading a book. Maybe he should tell him he knew about them being adopted, and ask him if he should tell it to the parents.

Untill then, John hadn't been very fond of Mycroft. He more or less saw him as a pompous git, annoyingly condescending with Sherlock. Even if his endless ressources and his genuine care for his younger brother made of him a necessary evil, John couldn't take kindly that at least two thirds of his words to Sherlock were criticisms or sacasms.

He had been particularly glad, the last time he had seen him, to remind the patronizing, all-mighty man that his younger brother could easily snap him in two if he wanted to.

But now, John wondered if the Holmes brothers' childhood couldn't explain and excuse many things. What kind of impact all this years spent alone with the staff and his "weird" mother could have had on Mycroft ? How could a boy bear the burden of feeling responsible for a much younger brother ?

Contrary to Sherlock, Mycrot had spent some time with their father, who had tramsmitted his social skills to him. And maybe that was the reason why Mycroft always seemed to smoothly make his way among the human kind, but without really bonding with anyone. Sherlock had once told him that his brother felt as if he was surrounded by goldfishes. And indeed, Mycfroft knew everything about the habits, customs and reactions of the species he needed to interact with in order to get what he wanted. But on the other hand, he seemed to care for no one, except his younger brother. Even Anthea was only a part of Mycroft's façade, the typically beautiful secretary, and not his mistress, as John had once believed. But contrary to Sherlock, Mycroft didn't seem to suffer at all from his loneliness, and found nothing difficult painful in human relationships, except the boredom to deal with inferior intellects. In a way, Mycroft was the embodiment of success. And yet, the idea of the void in which he was living was frightening.

How could he suddenly say to such a man : "Oh, by the way, I know you were adopted" ?

Still, he had to find a way to adress the subject.

John cleared his throat and began : "In the car, Sherlock told me that…"

"… That Phil and Alice are not our biological parents ?"

Sometimes, John forgot that Mycroft had the same skills as his younger brother. He didn't bother to ask how the man had guessed what he was about to say. Before he could add anything, Mycroft went on :

"I advise you not to try to ask Sherlock more questions about all this. You have to always wait for him to speak about it first. For there is something I'm sure he didn't tell you. Something you must know, I think, to better understand him. God knows that you put up with him far better than I ever expected, far better than anyone, actually. But it will help you to understand his trust issues... You see, our real mother resented Sherlock's birth. She could barely bear to lay eyes on him. Mycroft paused, but as John seemed unable to say anything, he went on. "I suppose that Sherlock explained you that our mother was not married with our father. When his wife suddenly died, she hoped that he would marry her. But our father told her it was impossible, because of 1 years old Sherlock. It would have been far to obvious, or so he said, that he was marrying the mother of his recently born illegitimate child. Of course, it was just one more lie. I'm sure that he would never have married her whatever the circumstances. For him, she had not the proper upbringing nor the social skills necessary for a man in his position. And he'd have been constantly terrified that his previous relationships with her would have become a public knowledge."

Mycroft sighed. "Even with me, she was far from being a tender, caring mother. She occasionally summoned me to test my progress in my studies, or, sometimes, to play chess with me. But most of the time, I was alone with maids and tutors. As for Sherlock, she never asked to see him. And of course, being him, he realised that something was wrong very young. I remember that just once, when he was no more than 3 years old, he asked me why I could go to see mother and not him. I told him that she was only interested in older children and that he had to grow up. But I know he was aware that it was a lie. He never asked again. Then our mother's mental health worsened to the point it was no longer possible for us to stay with her, even with a qualified and trustworthy staff. That's why we remained in Alice's care for a while. She herself had no experience of motherhood, but she did her best, and she came to genuinely care for us, especially for Sherlock. He managed to bond with her, but I suppose it was not enough, especially considering our father's attitude."

John was appaled, his heart aching for what his friend had been through when he was only a very small boy, since he was born, in fact. He painfully swallowed, and asked :

"Did your father reject Sherlock as well ?"

"Not exaclty. Not at the beginning. In fact, the lie I had told Sherlock about our mother was true for him : he had no interest in children, except to choose the best schools for them. He only took interest in me because I was in the wake of adulthood, and because I had the skills he valued the most. But he asked me to take Sherlock with me as soon as possible, as of course, to admit publicly his parternity was out of the question for him. And he considered that Alice wasn't the proper person to raise his son. But Sherlock would rather have stayed with Alice. He never forgave our father, nor me, to have retrieved him from here to send him in that boarding school for precocious children. I was only following our father's orders."

"You didn't have to comply, you had reached the age of majority", said John with venom. He could imagine his friend, a lonely, wary and rebellious child between his brilliant but insensitive father and brother. "And the Holmes were Sherlock's parents before the law. How was it that none of you stood for him ?"

Mycroft loooked at him with surprise. "But of course, we thought that it was the best for him, even Alice agreed. Sherlock couldn't go in an ordinary school, for at 10 he could have attended highschool. Yet all the adults thought it would be good for him to be with other children. I was certainly the less convinced, since I had hated my time at the university, but I didn't see why he couldn't adapt the way I had."

"But Sherlock is not you, Mycroft."

"So I learnt the hard way", Mycrot sight.

And to John, astonished, it sounded much nearer to the admission of a mistake than anything he had ever thougt Mycroft capable to say.


End file.
